


One Night at the Inn

by Romirola



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Comforting Athos, Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Guilty d'Artagnan, No Slash, Relates to/Spoilers for 1x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1745192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romirola/pseuds/Romirola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athos does not understand why d'Artagnan refuses to stop at an inn, especially in the face of a thunderstorm. Later that night, a nightmare causes Athos to understand d'Artagnan's actions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing even remotely related to BBC, Dumas, etc.
> 
> Hello, everyone! Hope you are all having a fabulous day! I present to you my first contribution to AO3- the first chapter in a two-part Musketeers fanfiction. This show has not aired in my country yet, (oh, the humanity!) but thanks to generous people who temporarily posted the full episodes, I was able to see the first series. Please enjoy my humble contribution to this growing fandom!

“One Night at the Inn”

_Chapter 1_

“D'Artagnan!” Athos called out over the gusting winds at his friend.  He tugged on the leather reins to slow his horse so he and the younger man could converse as best as possible in the frigid storm.  Putting a gloved hand in front of his face to shield his skin from the heavy raindrops falling from the sky, Athos quickly surveyed the environment.  The path had long since become a soup of slippery mud.  Athos twisted his head around.  His fears were confirmed: the hoof-prints his horse and d’Artagnan’s horse just made disappeared.  “D’Artagnan!” 

Up ahead, the younger musketeer did not slow his cantering horse, but he did oblige Athos with a glance in his direction.  “What?” he shouted back as the wind carried off his bellow to a whisper that Athos barely caught.  D’Artagnan squinted to make Athos out, but between the darkening sky and the deafening storm, he had a hard time concentrating on Athos’s face.  He knew that, like every other sensible person in the world, Athos wanted to stop for the night.  D’Artagnan, however, had adamantly expressed his intention to continue all day.  He did not plan to abandon his ideas now.

 Frustrated that d’Artagnan was deliberately rebelling against him, Athos halted his steed.  “We must stop!” ordered Athos.  “Continuing in this rain would be foolish!”  To further Athos’s point, a huge clap of thunder erupted from the sky.   D’Artagnan reluctantly shifted the reins so his horse would slowly move towards Athos’s mount.  Once they were closer together, Athos continued, but he still had to scream to be heard above the torrential downpour.  “Let’s head back to the inn we passed.  It can’t be more than a mile away.”

D’Artagnan shook his head as his heart constricted.  Droplets of water spurted off of his drenched hair and into his eyes.  Not for the first time since coming to Paris, d’Artagnan longed for a hat like Athos and the rest of the musketeer troops were issued upon receiving their commissions.  “Our destination is not far off.”  D’Artagnan knew that persuasion was impossible once Athos made up his mind, but the Gascon’s desperation and stubbornness would not allow submission.  “We’re already going to be a day late.”

“Better late than never,” Athos retorted, his tone leaving no room for compromise.  “We are stopping for the night.”  Without giving d’Artagnan time to comment, Athos kicked his horse in the direction of the inn.  After signing in resignation, D’artagnan did the same. 

The two rode in silence, which surprised but pleased Athos.  After all, they had been riding hard for hours and until now because d’Artagnan insisted they stop only for as little as possible.  Besides, the rain beating against the trees was loud enough to drown out any noise.  What Athos did not know was that the only reason D’Artagnan remained quiet was that his racing thoughts made him too nervous to speak.

Sitting in the dingy room at the inn, Athos drained the last of his wine into his mouth.  When the flow of the red liquid ceased, Athos ripped the bottle from his mouth and held it up in front of his face.   He examined it closely, and concluded that he had drunk the entire bottle.  Suddenly quite unamused with the empty glass, Athos relaxed into his seat and let his head slightly droop on his left shoulder.  Try as he might, he could not pull his eyes from following the incessant movement at the opposite side of the room.

D’Artagnan, who had not stopped pacing in front of the one cloudy window, increased his stride.  “Only one tonight?” d’Artagnan mocked with a harsher tone than he intended. 

“Considering I brought one bottle with me for a trip that was supposed to take one day, yes.”  Athos bristled under his new friend’s accusatory statement.  D’Artagnan did not offer a response to Athos.  Instead, he continued to pace and glance through the window.  Rain pounded against the glass pane.  Athos did not understand d’Artagnan’s fascination with the weather.  It was not as if the young man had never seen rain before in Gascony. 

“The rain seems to be letting up,” d’Artagnan commented absently. 

Athos’s eyes flickered from the window to d’Artagnan.  “Have you been drinking tonight, too, Lad?”  A smile crossed Athos’s lips when he thought of his own joke.  “That storm hasn’t stopped all night.  It’ll probably last through morning.” 

D’Artagnan huffed at Athos’s lame attempt at humor.  “I’m going to bed,” he quietly declared.

“Sweet dreams,” Athos condescendingly bode his friend, returning to the company of his empty bottle. 

*****


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Hope you are enjoying life! A HUGE thank you to anyone who read and added kudos the first chapter of this story. I am truly grateful for your feedback. Here is the second and last chapter of One Night at the Inn. Please enjoy, wonderful people!

“No… n-no!”

The small plea was just loud enough to drag Athos out of his sleep. The older musketeer slowly blinked and squinted to see if he could make out the origin of the noise. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed the remnants of sleep out of his eyes. He stumbled over to the table and lit a candle. Athos did not see anything out of the ordinary. That is, until he saw d’Artagnan. 

“Please…” d’Artagnan begged, twisting his legs around the thin sheets. “No!” His head lolled across his shoulders and a single sob escaped his lips. “Father, no!”

At the mention of d’Artagnan’s late father, Athos wasted no time in closing the gap between himself and d’Artagnan’s bed. He sat down gently and tenderly felt the young man’s forehead. Relieved to find no sign of a fever or sudden illness, Athos furrowed his brow. He expected d’Artagnan to wake up at his slight touch, but instead, d’Artagnan whipped his hand out from under the blanket and snatched Athos’s wrist. Athos initially winced at the increasing pressure of d’Artagnan’s desperate grip.

“Oh, Father, I’m…” Still trapped in sleep, d’Artagnan tossed his head back and forth, unable to escape what Athos could only assume was one hellish nightmare. “I-I’m s-sorry. So sorry!” he cried, squeezing even tighter than Athos thought possible. “Athos?” he questioned with horror. For a second, Athos thought that d’Artagnan was waking up but it was clear the sleeping man was still ensnared in a nightmare. “Athos, no! Not you, too! No… I’m sorry, sorry… So sorry…” 

Unable to watch his young friend suffer anymore, Athos maneuvered his free hand so he could reach d’Artagnan’s chest. Shaking him vigorously, Athos whispered, “D’Artagnan! D’Artagnan, wake up!” 

D’Artagnan shot up into a sitting position as his eyes flew open and wandered around the room. After a few seconds of chilling silence, he returned to his senses and recognized Athos, who was looking more bewildered by the second. 

“D’Artagnan?” Athos repeated, wishing the young man’s breathing rate would slow to a normal rhythm. “It’s alright, d’Artagnan. It’s just me,” he reassured. Athos looked down to see that d’Artagnan still had not let go of his wrist.

“A-Athos?” d’Artagnan stuttered, finally feeling grounded enough to meet the eyes of the man he had grown to respect and admire so greatly. Before he could stop them, words came tumbling out of d’Artagnan’s mouth. “I thought you were- I-I was… I saw-” 

As an older brother, Athos was well-versed in handling a panicking man post-nightmare. “Shh, shh.” Athos’s soft crooning halted all of d’Artagnan’s racing thoughts. “Hush now. Everything is alright.” 

D’Artagnan could have laughed at such a ludicrous statement. “It’s not alright!” He buried his face into his hands, covering his misty eyes from Athos’s prying stare. “It’ll never be alright, and it’s all my fault.” Despite his valiant attempts to compose himself, D’Artagnan’s shoulders began to quiver and he turned away from Athos to save face. 

“D’Artagnan? What are you talking about?” Disturbed at d’Artagnan’s distress, Athos repositioned himself on the bed and gingerly implored d’Artagnan to explain himself. 

D’Artagnan swallowed. He did not want to disclose any of the details of his dream, or the feelings locked up in his heart, for that matter, but under the assault of Athos’s uncharacteristic attentiveness, d’Artagnan was powerless to dam the raw emotions that flowed forth at Athos’s encouragement. 

“For… For my father’s murder!” the young man choked out, flinging his arms around Athos’s neck. “It was my fault, all my fault!” d’Artagnan cried as the memory of his father’s last breath replayed in head. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” 

Out of habit, d’Artagnan tried to push himself away from Athos so he could suffer in solitude like he had since his father’s death. Athos, too familiar with suffering in solitude, would not let d’Artagnan move. Instead, he placed his hand on the back of d’Artagnan’s head to keep the mourning man in place. After a few seconds of struggling, d’Artagnan welcomed the embrace and relaxed against Athos as more tears spilled out of his eyes. 

Athos patiently waited for d’Artagnan to quiet down before straightening his arms so he could look d’Artagnan in the eyes. “It was not your fault,” he proclaimed. “Gaudet is the only person responsible for your father’s death.” 

“You don’t understand,” d’Artagnan responded. “That night at the inn. I was the one who suggested we stop there! If I hadn’t-” 

“Stop that,” Athos ordered, and d’Artagnan obediently obliged when he heard an edge of leadership in Athos’s tone. Softening his voice, the older musketeer continued. “Do not imagine what could have been. You cannot undo your actions,” he sighed. D’Artagnan looked at his friend and Athos could have melted under the expectant plea for absolution. “Your father was not killed by your completely rational decision to stop at an inn in the middle of the night after riding in the rain for hours.” D’Artagnan swiped away a thin trail of tears and sharply exhaled, signaling that he was listening. “Gaudet is the only man responsible for your father’s death. Do not confuse yourself with that monster.”

D’Artagnan slowly nodded. “It makes so much more sense when you say it.” He shifted uncomfortably and ran a shaky hand through his tangled hair. “When you suggested we stop here tonight, all I could think was-”

Realization clicked for Athos and his stomach churned at the agitation d’Artagnan must have been feeling all night. “That I, too, would be killed during our stay here.”

Such a thought was almost enough for d’Artagnan to start sobbing again, but the strong shoulder squeeze that Athos gave him warded off any tears. “Yes,” the youth confirmed. “It was so real... I-in my dream. And I can’t bear that thought. Not while I can do something about it.”

Swelling with pride, Athos rested his chin atop the boy’s head. “Spoken like a true Gascon,” he chided without derision. “I may not have had the privilege of knowing Alexandre d’Artagnan of Lupiac in Gascony, but I would go so far as to say that he would be proud of his son.” At such a compliment, d’Artagnan genuinely smiled. “I know I am.”

D’Artagnan mutely nodded and failed to hold back a yawn. Not wanting to keep the boy up any more, Athos slowly guided him back down to the bed and pulled the covers over him. The rain that had previously served as a constant reminder as to what d’Artagnan had lost decreased in volume. Just as d’Artagnan wearily slipped back into slumber, he could have sworn he heard Athos utter, “Goodnight, d’Artagnan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! Any and all feedback is welcomed, encouraged, and treasured. I would love to know what you think! Thank you again for reading/adding kudos/commenting! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed the first installment of this story. Any and all feedback is welcome, encouraged, and treasured. Thanks again, and see you next chapter!


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